


this must be the place

by paranoiacintervals



Category: Swiss Army Man (2016)
Genre: (both of them), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic, First Dates, Fluff, Homoeroticism, M/M, Shoplifting, Trans Male Character, Walk, but he doesn't all the time, manny can like, manny is in a shopping cart, t4t, unexplained shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23635378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paranoiacintervals/pseuds/paranoiacintervals
Summary: (after talking heads- set in an au where they make it to society, but they don't show up at sarah's house, they're just... still living in the shallow parts of the forrest and taking what they need from targets and goodwills. deeply inspired by afterverse by cuddyclothes.)after they sneak into a beach house, hank gives manny his "first date".
Relationships: Manny/Hank Thompson
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	this must be the place

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry i stopped caring about the great gatsby i'm so sorry but not really also i'm insane because this movie is stuck in my head its soooo good and also more people oughta care about it. also they're both trans kings :)  
> sorry if i describe the interior too much i just based this off my aunt's beach house i am not sorry for the anti-capitalist overtones though

it was decided at some point, for a year or so, they’d need to stop living in the woods. hank went first, he presented it gently.  
“how’d you feel about living in a house?” his voice was deep, hank didn’t know what time it was. it could be 11pm or 5am.  
“did i live in a house?” manny tried his very hardest to show emotion.  
“maybe.” hank yawned, speaking through it- “not everyone gets a house. you have to pay for it every month. so sometimes when you run out of money, you get kicked out.”  
“is that why you’re here?”  
“no. i mean- i’ve gotten close a few times.”  
“but you are now.”  
“i guess.” hank squints, turning over to face manny in their makeshift bed. “we don’t have to be, though.”  
“but we don’t have any money.”  
“yeah. but we can, uh, steal a house. like how we do with food and stuff.”  
“how?”  
“well, manny-”  
“we can’t grab it.”  
“i know, but very rich people, they sometimes have multiple houses.”  
“why? don’t they just need one?”  
“yeah, but they get multiple houses. and usually, they go to one house for vacation. like, they’ll have a beach house, by the beach, that they’ll go to for the summer! or, uh, a cabin for winter, for christmas and stuff.”  
“christmas?”  
“i’ll tell you about that one later.”  
after that conversation quickly devolved into a conversation defining christmas, as well as other holidays, hank struggled to bring up the proposal again.  
it eventually came up in the target parking lot, perhaps in october.  
after manny clumsily plugged in their shared phone, hank sat against the wall, propping manny’s head to look at him. “remember the other day when i was talking about houses?”  
“oh, yeah.”  
“well-” he pulls a hoodie over his head, the 4xl one he found at the landfill, “what if we lived in a house.”  
“you mean stealing a house?” it’s a question, but still monotone. hank nods. “how does that even work?”  
“well, we, uh, we go inside when nobody’s there. and that’s our home until the people come back.”  
“oh.”  
“yeah, think on it. i’m gonna go get some stuff to last us a week or so.”  
manny thought on it. he thought about how the soft earth felt beneath them, about how used to it he was. he thought about the houses they made, out of sticks and trash. how thought about how to him and hank, nothing went to waste.  
he also thought about everything obsolete around them, and wondered if a house could fix all that.  
when hank returned, he walked slowly, as always, trying hard to ensure that the bunches of cereal cups and snack cakes, packs of cups, didn’t fall out of his coat. it was a truly comical sight, how unconvincing it was. before manny, the last time hank stole was as a teenage boy trying to be edgy. he remembers how his dad didn’t know how to feel, he said firmly how he shouldn’t steal, but tried to explain that it wasn’t necessarily the worst crime. hank understood, he understood when he saw on the news that neighbors got arrested for trying to feed their children. he remembers his father shaking his head.  
this was not even close to that.  
that being remembered, he wheeled manny out to the darker end of the garage before emptying the hoodie over him. manny finally spoke up, “do we have to live in the house forever?”  
“well- no, god no.” hank lowers his voice now, trying to sound soft amongst holding thick fabric over manny’s head, “we’ll be lucky if we can stay there for a month, more or less.”  
“oh.” manny sticks his fingers out from the slits in the cart. “can i see it?”  
“do you-” hank pushes manny’s fingers back in, draping a flannel over the side of the cart, “want to?”  
“of course i want to, hank!”  
“ok, then we-” hank looked for any nearby security guards that might show up. “alright. i think i still know where it is.”  
hank wheeled manny out for a solid 10 minutes, trying to keep him quiet by playing the cassette they found on a loop. hank thinks it used to be billie jean, before it got damaged, but he couldn’t even begin to explain cassettes to manny, so he never bought it up. manny still liked it the same.  
when they arrived in the house’s empty driveway, hank remembered tagging along with his friends while they ding-dong-ditched a girl one of them liked. hank sighed as he leaned over the cart, tossing the flannel to the floor.  
“hank,” only manny’s head poked out from the cart, “can you pull me up?”  
hank pulled him out of the cart, laying him across the hoodie and prompting him to sit up, turning his head at the house.  
“oh, hank, it’s beautiful!” his head dropped to the side before hank grabbed it. “we should live here forever!”  
“we should go inside.”  
“oh, yeah, i guess.”  
the house was narrow and tall, the inside dark, walls covered of various paintings of women sitting on the beach.  
“this place is nice,” hank continued to wheel manny through the foyer. one door was on each side. hank looked into the right door- “fuck, there’s a basement.”  
“is that bad?”  
“no. it’s just… scary.”  
“oh.”  
the door on the left was already half open, revealing a room with 2 twin beds.  
hank hummed before moving forward. not too far off, there was a door on the left, another bedroom- this one had one bed, a queen, and a tv.  
“hey, what’s that?”  
hank wheeled the cart in before letting manny hop out. “it’s a tv.”  
“that’s a tv?” hank nodded before manny poked at the screen. “what does it do?”  
“uh,” hank stopped. “normally it plays video. try turning it on.”  
“what?”  
right. hank dusted the sides off before switching a knob. it flashed static. manny screamed.  
“what the fuck!” manny covered his ears, “why is it doing that? make it stop!”  
hank switched it off.  
“what was that?”  
“uh, tvs need to be more than just… on, just on to work. they need cable, which plays, like, little movies.” hank cleared his throat. “it doesn’t have cable.”  
“where can we get it?”  
“uh.” hank stopped, thinking long and hard while manny impatiently looked at him. “maybe in the basement. or the roof. but if we watch too much tv, they have to pay for it.”  
“well, who cares if we’re weird!”  
“no, not like that-” hank forces manny’s head back, grabbing his hair. “manny, it’s illegal.”  
“ok? so?”  
“we could go to jail.”  
silence.  
“ok.”  
“ok?”  
“i’m sorry, hank.”  
“it’s fine, bud. we can watch a little tv, just not a lot.”  
a beat. it’s still strange to see manny standing up. “i- i wanna see the other rooms now.”  
“shit, are there more?”  
“i don’t know. i saw more doors.”  
“shit.” hank cranes his neck and parallel to this room is another. he walks slowly; this one has an open, full closet before the bed, and another open door next to the bed, this one leading to a small bathroom. “look at this.”  
manny tilted his head, “it’s another room.”  
hank sighed before picking up manny. “clothes!” he swung manny in the direction of the closet.  
“oh, wow.”  
hank drops manny on the bed. “i’m gonna shower, you sit here.”  
“without me?”  
hank blinks. “what?” oh. oh. “yeah, they got a real shower here.”  
manny sighs. “hank, what if you need to show me how to do it?”  
hank looks back at manny’s body, limp on the bed. he thinks about how long manny’s gone without showering in comparison to him. “alright.”  
he strips manny of everything except his boxers. it’s not weird, at this point nothing’s weird between them. “oh shit.”  
what appears to be heavy bruising is scattered upon manny’s stomach, as well as sealed scars under his chest that are similar to hank’s own. he grazes his hand over the bruises. “is this from-” manny quickly looks down before he starts screaming. hank puts a hand over his mouth, violently shushing him. “it’s ok! it’s ok!” the screaming stops. “it’s from when you died.”  
manny begins screaming again. “you know i dont like thinking about it, hank!”  
“i’m sorry!”  
“it’s-” manny knocks hank off his elbows, “a-” he pulls hank next to him, “sensitive topic!”  
hank blinks before sitting up. “oh, shit.” he points to a mark on manny’s arm, rubbing his eye. “manny, you have a tattoo!”  
it’s not remarkable- a small stick and poke of 2 intersecting mars signs. “manny, look.”  
“woah. what’s it mean, hank?”  
hank blinks. “don’t freak out, ok?”  
“ok.”  
“uh… it means that… when you were alive, i guess, instead of sarah… or whatever… you didn’t-” he breathes out. “you only liked men.”  
“what? that’s awesome!”  
“yeah.” hank smiles. “but the thing is-” he traces under his chest again, “you have these scars here too. and they’re definitely not from when you died.”  
“so it’s normal? it’s not weird?”  
“yeah. yeah.”  
manny smiles, slowly, and hank smiles back. he remembers being underwater. “let’s get you cleaned up.”  
the bathroom is tight, hank puts a plastic stool in the shower. he grabs a bar of soap. “you see this? this is soap. you rub soap all over your body.” hank starts with manny’s back (also bruised, but he doesn’t know that), working around his neck. “and it cleans all the dirt off you, but covers you in weird goo that you have to wash off after. with water, not soap.”  
“can you eat soap?”  
“maybe you used to when you were really little, but you shouldn’t because it’s not food and covered in hair and dirt.” hank starts washing himself, “you use soap to get rid of sweat and dirt. but you don’t sweat, so just dirt.”  
“we like dirt.”  
“we like dirt, but it’s safer to be clean.” he squirts some shampoo into his hands. “this is shampoo. it’s a dumb word. you put it in your hair and it makes your hair clean.” he runs his hands through manny’s hair.  
“that feels good.”  
“yeah, it feels good when someone does that to you.”  
“shampoo.”  
“shampoo.” hank pulls manny’s head back. “and when you’re done, you use conditioner.” he pours conditioner directly on manny’s head, “i’m not really sure what this one does.” he rubs it in more, watching as manny slightly looks up at him.  
“it’s good.”  
“yeah.”  
he pushes manny’s head under the showerhead. “and now we’re rinsing off all the weird goo.”  
“can we do this more often?”  
hank starts washing his own hair. he realizes he needs to shave. “most people shower all the time.”  
“oh.”  
the water runs over them. it might be too hot.  
“can you do that to my hair again?”  
“we already washed it.”  
“can you just... do that?” manny’s almost pleading. “wash my hair without the goo?”  
hank starts combing through manny’s hair with his fingers. he presses his head to his chest. “we should get out soon.”  
“why’s my skin all wrinkly?”  
“that’s what happens when you spend too much time in water.”  
“it’s ugly.”  
“yeah.” hank turns the water off. “yeah, it is ugly.”  
he opens the shower curtain and hands a towel to manny. “dry yourself off.”  
hank forgot what it felt like, for the most part, to take a shower. he forgot about clear water. he forgot about water that wasn’t manny’s spit.  
“hank?” hank hums in response. “does that mean i didn’t have a girlfriend?”  
“what? oh.” hank stops. “maybe you did, but you weren’t very comfortable with her, so you broke up at some point. and maybe you dated a guy who was super tall and ripped, and he made you dinner and took you on really cool dates. maybe not.”  
“dates?”  
“oh yeah, you’ve never had a date before, haven’t you?” manny shakes his head. “well, a date is when you and someone, maybe not someone you really love yet, maybe you’re just getting to know them so you can fall in love, and you do something fun together. like you go to a fancy restaurant, or watch a movie. like we- like you did with sarah. so you technically have been on a date before.”  
“but it didn’t count, because sarah is a girl.” manny stands up. “hank, i have to have my first date!”  
“it still counted with sarah, even though she’s-” he looked at manny. even with one busted eye, he somewhat managed to get a puppy-dog expression on his face. “we haven’t even seen the other floor yet.”  
“so we can do it up there!”  
before manny can look, hank runs to the rack and grabs a pair of baggy jeans. they smell like 1998. “we can’t- just-” he zips up his fly before looking at manny. “we can’t just find some guy for you to… date.” manny looks at hank expectantly. oh. his face flushes hot red. “manny, i-”  
“it’ll be great!”  
hank swallows. “ok. ok, yeah.”  
the second story of the house is different. it’s a lot brighter. there’s a couch, another tv, this one a flat screen, and a kitchen.  
and a glass door. shit, there’s a fucking terrace.  
hank knows nothing about cooking, but he’ll do whatever it takes right now to make containers of froot loops and peanut butter gourmet. he runs through what he took from the target: cereal. meat. pretzels. a singular apple. twinkies.  
he opens a drawer to search for some sort of utensils-  
instead is a wad of twenty dollar bills. hank smiles, wired at this point. he can just order in. thank god. he turns to the fridge and looks for a menu. byrne’s pizzaria. perfect.  
after ordering, hank rips the tablecloth from the table indoors- it’s too big for the table outside. shit.  
hank runs downstairs, going through the towels. without looking, he grabs one. when he gets upstairs and lays it out, he notices disney princesses printed all over it- but it fits, and he’s not one to complain.  
he runs downstairs and waits for pizza. a skinny teenage boy with locs hanging in his face, dressed in all red. he hands him a twenty. “this is for the order.” he hands him another twenty. “this one is your tip.”  
“sir, that’s a twenty dollar bill.”  
hank smiles and takes the pizza box before running back into the house. he watches from a window to make sure the kid is gone, then carefully slides it onto plates after running upstairs for the umpteenth time. god, he missed this. eating from a plate. pizza.  
he grabs a menorah from the indoor-table (convenient for him) and sticks a candle in the shemash and places it between the two plates. he pours glasses of water for them. he runs indoors. he rips paper towels off the roll and folds them into paper airplanes.  
hank falls backwards and hears a static screech. he stands up. a radio. this house is a godsend. he runs with it, turning it on and kicking it under the table.  
he hears tears for fears, clear as day. nice. he walks downstairs now, to see manny sitting on the bed, singing the fucked version of billie jean (the one he thinks is the correct version) to himself.  
“excited for your date?” manny turns around and nods frantically. “hell yes. let’s get dressed.”  
“what are you supposed to wear to a date?” manny asks this as hank pulls off his pants for the second time today.  
“fancy clothes, i guess.” hank files through the rack, tossing a loose button-up shirt back on the bed, over manny’s chest. “a nice shirt. but i think that this is…” he pulls out a pair of blue dress pants. this one looks more like it’ll fit him. “i don’t know how much of these we’ll be able to take, manny. i think some of these are girls clothes.”  
“what’s the difference?”  
hank thinks for a second, and decides not to further teach manny about gender. he throws a floral skirt back at him. hank grabs a yellow blouse and pulls it over his head. “i don’t know.”  
after getting changed, hank guides manny upstairs. “there’s another tv over here.”  
“why do we need two?”  
“not sure.” hank pushes him forward. “this is our date.”  
“oh, wow! it’s beautiful!”  
hank smiles and pulls out the chair for him. “can you hear the music?”  
manny sits down. “what is it?”  
“it’s prince. he liked purple a lot, and sung songs about sex.”  
“i like him.”  
“a lot of people do.” hank grabs for manny’s hand and snaps his fingers over the candle’s wick before pushing the plate towards him. “this is our dinner.”  
“what is it?”  
“it’s called pizza,” he grabs it, showing manny, “you eat it like this. it’s really good.”  
he watches as manny’s eyes- eye- widens, hank smiles and nods at him. “good, right?” it’s weird, not forcing manny to chew.  
for a good few minutes, they sit, eating and just looking at each other. manny swallows. “that was beautiful.” the song changed to something familiar. hank perked up and grabbed manny’s arm.  
“i love this song,” he pulls manny up, “let’s dance.”  
“i’m not sure if i can!” manny stands up with a jolt.  
“this was the song my parents had their first dance to at their wedding,” hank puts his arm around manny, “i’ll guide you through it.”  
“what is this?”  
“it’s this must be the place. it’s by talking heads, they were a bunch of art students from new york.” they move back and forth. it’s intimate, it’s warm. the candle flickers behind them. “sing along, i’ll help.”  
they sung, it sounded exactly how hank expected it to, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.  
“this song is kind of about us!” manny looked up at hank, who was almost towering over him.  
“i guess.” now hank listened as they sung. he smiled looking directly at manny now. “can i?”  
he kissed him softly, it was different. no water surrounding them, no threats, just them.  
“manny?” hank was whispering now, he didn’t need to. “i love you.”  
“i love you too.”  
“no, like…” hank doesn’t stop moving, “i’m in love with you.”  
“me too.”  
as the music faded out, they kissed again, under the dark sky, smiling into each other’s skin.

**Author's Note:**

> for reference, some lyrics from this must be the place:  
> Home is where I want to be  
> But I guess I'm already there  
> I come home, she lifted up her wings  
> I guess that this must be the place  
> I can't tell one from the other  
> Did I find you or you find me?  
> There was a time before we were born  
> If someone asks, this is where I'll be, where I'll be
> 
> Oh, we drift in and out  
> Oh, sing into my mouth  
> Out of all those kinds of people  
> You got a face with a view  
> I'm just an animal looking for a home and  
> Share the same space for a minute or two  
> And you love me 'til my heart stops  
> Love me 'til I'm dead  
> Eyes that light up, eyes look through you  
> Cover up the blank spots, hit me on the head, ah-ooh


End file.
